


Memory

by Drowsybadger



Series: Drowsy's Obitine Prompt of the Month Works [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Korkie Kryze is a Kenobi, Post-Satine's death, Sad, Star Wars Modern AU, Written for Obitine-prompt-of-the-month: Festive, the Obitine is past but not really past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28463172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drowsybadger/pseuds/Drowsybadger
Summary: As he prepares Christmas dinner with his son, Obi-Wan Kenobi reminisces about his late wife.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Korkie Kryze, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Series: Drowsy's Obitine Prompt of the Month Works [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034085
Comments: 2
Kudos: 22





	Memory

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to kill me, guys. I made this Modern AU fic painful for a bit. But this is the friendly version. There was one with a murder flashback but I decided Maul should stop shoving his way into Obitine content. So now it’s just sad and he’s mentioned, like, twice. And since Obi-Wan is not a Jedi here, I let him be a little more... Shaken about Satine’s death. (I guess? I just wanted to write feelings.)

This Christmas, Obi-Wan Kenobi was alone. Or rather, alone in their cosy countryside cottage with his adolescent son. Anakin was with Padmé , enjoying a white Christmas in the Italian alps. Ahsoka was celebrating together with his sister-in-law and some friends, taking a rare day off in her hunt for Maul.

Satine’s killer.

The man who only wanted Obi-wan to suffer. 

Who had killed his wife in cold blood right in front of Obi-Wan in her – he never called it _his_ , or _theirs_ ; it had always been _hers_ , _the Duchess’s_ – own castle up in the mountains that November.

He remembered the day as if it was yesterday.

Neither he or Korkie ever felt talkative in the evenings, when they would sit by the fireplace and watch the candles burn down, silence and the soft crackling of the fire their only companions.

Christmas just wasn’t the same without Satine. Not now. Not in twenty years, when the wounds weren’t half as fresh anymore.

Their meals were simple, or as simple as they could let them be on Christmas Day. The Kenobi-Kryzes were a family of traditions. Obi-Wan had given the staff a well-deserved week off. Him and Korkie had taken to cooking together. The mood would start out cheerfully, sharing jokes and singing along to the fifth rerun of “Last Christmas”. Then, one of them would remember something she did or said, and the mood turned sombre and melancholy.

Like now.

Korkie had been peeling potatoes as Obi-Wan contemplated how to best separate the egg whites from the yolks for the dessert. He was not a bad or inexperienced cook, he was actually quite competent in the kitchen when needed, but the... fancier meals that involved such skills had always been the business of either Satine or the house staff. Which explained why his hands were covered in egg goo.

His eyes sparkling teasingly, – Obi-Wan tried desperately not to think about how his wife’s eyes had had that same sparkle when she’d teased him about how his beard hid too much of his “handsome face” - his son looked at him over his shoulder and suggested:

“Try a little more... Flourish? I know Mum has this” – Korkie’s smile fell as soon as the words left his mouth, and the sparkle left his eye. His voice cracked. – “ _Had_ this trick. When separating egg yolks from the whites, I mean.” He swallowed. Obi-Wan could see how he tried to keep his expression neutral. “I’m sorry, Dad. I...”

He faltered and choked back a sob.

Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around Korkie’s shoulder. Trying to convey that sense of “It’s okay. You can talk about her. We’re both hurting. It’s okay if you want to cry, or only eat ice cream, or punch something.” The teenager was nearly as tall as him, but Obi-Wan would always be reminded of the small rosy baby he had once been, nestled safely in his mother’s arms and reaching out to touch Obi-Wan’s face with small, chubby baby hands.

His son leaned into him. He’d understood the gesture.

“I know, Korks. I know. I... Just have to remember how she did it.”

He thought back to all those times he had surprised Satine in the kitchen as she prepared the Christmas dinner.

He used to come up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her cheek from behind. Satine would be startled by him every time, more often than not whirling round with an egg in her hand, ready to hit him with it. As Korkie got older, Obi-Wan had spent less time disturbing his wife preparing the Christmas dinner, and more time keeping his son away from the desert and presents.

Now he remembered. Satine had not been foolish like him and tried to crack the egg open with a spoon. She used to use two teacups. One to crack the egg open on and collect the egg yolks, another for the egg whites.

_Thank you, my dearest Satine._

“Korkie, hands me a towel and some teacups.”

* * *

As Obi-Wan finished preparing dinner, fond memories washed over him one by one.

_The first Christmas he had spent with Satine._

They had just graduated with their bachelors that Summer, young and naïve, and enjoyed the peace and quiet of the castle’s domestic wing. It was one of the few holidays they had ever spent there, much preferring the cottage’s small comforts over the castle’s stone-cold vastness.

That Christmas, they had let the staff prepare dinner. Satine had predicted Obi-Wan would be too fascinated by the castle’s treasures to care for cooking much.

She was right.

He had marvelled and stared, asking questions without end.

She had fondly smiled at each and answered with the patience of a woman beyond her years.

It was then that he realised he may be in love.

_Korkie’s birth._

It had been quite the scandal amongst High Society – an unmarried Duchess having a child with her fiancée? – Unthinkable! The tabloids had had a field day.

They had married barely a month before Korkie was born, in a small, private ceremony. It had been perfect. Obi-Wan knew he never wanted to leave her side when he saw her in that dress.

The only thing they had regretted was that Bo-Katan could not be there with them.

When Korkie was finally born after many hours of difficult labour, Obi-Wan had held and admired his son as Satine rested. He recalled feeling like the happiest man on earth. Warmth had enveloped him like a soft blanket, cushioning his beating heart and the fears he’d had.

He’d known he would give anything to protect his son.

His mind wandered onwards, to that first Christmas with Korkie. Satine and him had taken their son in shifts, despite the nannies’ insistence that they need not – why else did they have three nannies?

He recalled sitting in bed with Satine on Christmas Eve. She had smiled at him tiredly, her hair falling haphazardly over her shoulders, bags under her eyes, and told him to “Get back up and unwrap the present on the dresser.”

Knowing not to disagree, he had unwrapped the gift to reveal a pocket watch, with the letters O.-W.K. engraved on the back.

A lovely piece. He still carried it with him to this day and hoped to hand it down to Korkie one day.

For a brief moment, his mind wandered to the day Qui-Gon had died, but Obi-Wan would not let himself go there tonight. Maul had forced his way into too many of his memories this Christmas already.

Instead, he remembered the first Christmas with Anakin. The way the boy’s eyes had shone as he marvelled at the decked-out Christmas tree and cottage. How he had not been able to believe how many gifts were to be his. The mischievous grins he had shared with Korkie before they had hung a branch of mistletoe right over the maids’ heads. The two women had gotten married last year thanks to the boys’ brilliant intuition and “small” prank. The sweet and loving card Anakin had written to his mother that year and in every one that followed, until her death.

Satine had always regretted never being able to reunite Shmi and her son.

Padmé and Anakin’s wedding flooded past the memories of Christmas celebrations.

A small, private ceremony at her family’s lakeside house in Italy. Anakin’s arm was in a cast. Korkie had had a field day painting on it. Satine had cried. Obi-Wan had teased her about their own wedding, to which she added that at least there were no pregnant brides to worry about now.

A few months later, they had celebrated Christmas together with Plo Koon and his wards: Ahsoka – Anakin’s number one partner-in-crime; Wolffe and Wolffe’s many, many brothers. It had been a party to remember. Ahsoka and Anakin wreaked havoc as Korkie tried to temper their enthusiasm for jumping out at maids. Plo’s warmth had made him the ideal candidate to play Father Christmas as a special surprise for the children. Wolffe had snorted into his most of the evening, which gave his brothers an excuse to thump him on the back with vigour.

He remembered how happy they had been when Anakin had announced Padmé ’s pregnancy. Satine had thrown herself into guiding the younger woman through the experience.

Silently, Obi-Wan thanked any and all greater beings out there he had experienced such joys in life.

And for a brief, brief, moment, he thought he saw Satine smiling at him from the doorway.


End file.
